Paramore, Paramour, Riot!
by sweetheart-bitterheart
Summary: More Dasey drabbles this time written along with Paramore's album Riot!


**Author's Note:** More drabble type things I wrote along with Paramore's album _Riot!_ These ones seem longer (to me) than the other ones. If you liked the others hopefully you'll like these. R&R please. I'd really appreciate it.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

--------------------

_**For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic**_

_Just talk yourself up and tear yourself down  
You've hit your one wall  
Now find a way around  
_

"You are a giant toddler," Casey deadpans. Her glare has faded and her creased forehand goes back to being smooth and pale as ever.

Derek smirks, "I know, right?" Sam, who is standing behind him, laughs but when he catches Casey glaring at him steadily he goes back to being mute.

She throws her hands up in air. "You're insufferable!" She starts to walk away, down the hall, back to her _real_ friends.

"Love you too," he snickers and she whirls back around, getting in his face.

"You asshole," she growls.

"You crazy bitch," he growls right back but he is far more amused then she is (_because she isn't at all_).

"You don't get to have an opinion on the matter, Derek, okay? So please reframe from stating one because nobody cares least of all me!" She's breathing hard, too hard, and focused completely on her so-called nemesis.

"Whatever, Casey. I was trying to be objective…"

She cuts him off, "Well, you failed at that."

His indifferent behavior bothers her so very much. Though his smirk is gone, he still has a little bit of a devious glimmer in his eyes. Casey hates it when she sees that; half because she even notices it.

"Go to hell," she whispers, leaning in just _a little bit_.

"Already there, babe," he whispers back, leaning in also.

Trying desperately not to smirk, she leans in a little more, so that their lips are almost brushing. She hears Derek take a deep breath and she drops her gaze to his lips very briefly then back to his eyes. Taking the plunge, she gets so close; Derek's personal space is entirely gone and spread wide open. Instead of going to his lips, like he had thought, she goes to his ear.

"Leave me the hell alone," and with that she turns on her heel and walks out of the room.

*

_**That's What You Get**_

_I can't decide  
You have made it harder just to go on  
And why, all the possibilities where I was wrong_

This is what she gets for trying to make it work with him. Trying to be understanding, trying to be a good friend, just trying. She gets it slapped back in her face; she gets laughter and mean words. Again.

He is such an asshole.

Not she doesn't already know, not the he doesn't either. She isn't a piece of pleasant pie either half of the time. But if he dared to care, if he was going to comfort, if he tried, she wouldn't be a bitch to him.

But that's just her.

"Go away, Casey," Derek growls, glaring up at her which was weird because she is so used to him looking down at her instead. It was like they switched roles. She's being the persistent one and he's being the vulnerable one.

"Nope," she sneers, "Don't feel like it." She felt like him.

"Pushy bitch," he snaps.

"Unfeeling jackass," she snaps back.

He looks away and she keeps looking at him. His dark hair, chocolate colored eyes that are now lined with anger, his lips that are being chewed on, the tired lines of his face. She felt like she could understand him if he let her (_but he wouldn't, not yet_). She felt akin to him in some ways. She felt him.

He turns back to her, "How long do you plan on staying here?"

"Long as you'll have me," she smirks then, "And for a few hours after that."

He laughs and it lifts her heart.

*

_**Hallelujah**_

_Holding onto patience wearing thin  
I can't force these eyes to see the end_

In the so-called throes of passion (_more like throes of moral quandary_), their skin burned together. Sparks ignited, burning between them, heat underneath the skin, he's always been able to make her blush but he can never tell what sets her off. She is so pale that any exertion makes blood flush hot in her cheeks.

Afterward, when they are lying next to each other, both sweaty and warm, it's too awkward for them to speak so soon. Desperate to get away without a second thought or second glance, Casey pulls herself together and attempts to flee but Derek clutches her in between his body and the bed.

"Not yet," he whispers as he pins her down gently. "Just not yet."

He doesn't know whether it's the heat or the sex or the asking that brought such red to the marble of her skin. She swallows the lump in her throat and nods. Derek leans down and kisses her neck very softly that Casey isn't sure she feels it until he speaks again.

"I love it when you blush," his words bring the hot color back again and she contentedly trembles underneath his stare.

*

_**Misery Business**_

_She's got a body like an hourglass, it's ticking like a clock  
It's a matter of time before we all run out  
When I thought he was mine she got him by the mouth  
_

She sees them together all the fucking time. It makes her feel weird. It makes her want to punch something; preferably their faces. She's pretty much perfect; cute face, little waist, blonde, "naturally" tan, just what every guy wants.

But she can't keep up with him even if she tried. Only the selected few with an acquired taste could. Namely Casey.

She and Derek had been flirting around the idea of something more for months when he suddenly came by with _her_. Casey's heart sunk and her face flushed. Derek barely seemed to notice and if he did he must've relived in her embarrassment and idiocy.

_Asshole_, she repeatedly ran through her head.

But later than night when he smiled in her direction, she nearly melted right in her seat. He was the rulemaker and she just followed along.

*

_**When It Rains**_

_Just say it again and mean it  
We don't miss a thing  
You made yourself a bed at the bottom of the blackest hole (blackest hole)  
And convinced yourself that it's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore_

It's raining quite heavily when they finally reach each other. They are inside but Casey still feels pretty cold. Derek shakes out his hair then runs a hand through it to smooth it back into place. She chuckles, hoping he doesn't notice.

"So… are you going to apologize?" She asks tentatively.

"Me? Apologize? That's why we're here?" Derek says incredulously then smirks, "We'll sure as hell be waiting here a long time then."

Casey turns away, desperate not to cry or throw up. He would never let her live it down. She stares at the rain pouring down, droplet after droplet, never catching anything, only falling and falling. She envies them a little bit; only knowing falling without the full effects of hitting the ground. How stupid was she to think anyone would ever catch her?

"Well, I'm sorry, Derek," she tells him, turning back to see his surprised face, "I'm sorry I ever thought you could be a decent guy." She wants to run away; into the rain, into the mist, into the muck and the mile.

Standing up, she grasps her umbrella in her right hand and walks out of the room. Derek, still very surprised, slowly follows after her, needing to have the last word.

"I just wanted you to be happy," he speaks frankly but regretfully.

She shrugs and says, "Me too," then exits the building into the pouring rain.

*

_**Let the Flames Begin**_

_This is how we'll dance when  
When they try to take us down  
This is what will be  
_

None of their friends knew anything until there they were, on the dance floor, in each other's arms. They basked in only one another while everyone else watched in awe.

They stole kisses and glances all night long and now just wanted each other.

Emily suddenly remembered something from earlier that night, when Casey took off her sweater and was only wearing a black dress with thin straps. Derek's expression was different than usual. He seemed pleased, even self-satisfied, but most of all he was admirable of Casey's appearance. His eyes ran over every inch of her body and she was perfectly okay with that when usually she would make some mean remark to him about ogling and they would argue back and forth for hours.

Without breaking eye contact, they slowly made their way past the table their friends were at, took their things then left out the back door. Everyone else could only watch in surprise.

*

_**Crushcrushcrush**_

_If you want to play it like a game  
Well, come on, come on, let's play  
'Cause I'd rather waste my life pretending  
Than have to forget you for one whole minute_

There's reason why a crush is called a crush.

Because if your affections and infatuation is rejected you feel crushed. Derek had to find this out the hard way and it hurt like hell.

All the bickering and the arguing and the unbelievable amount of _unresolved sexual tension_ must've been killing her too. Or so he thought. She obviously just didn't care. He was obsessed though, he had started to feel things he never knew existed, never knew were kicking around inside him.

Now he was angry.

Then he figured it out. She was playing a game. She was messing with his head, trying to see if he really cared, if this was what he really wanted. She was pretending to be coy.

So now he knew how to get her where he wanted them both.

*

_**We Are Broken**_

_My mouth is dry with words I cannot verbalize  
Tell me why we live like this  
_

He tries to say it all without a thought in his head (_but it doesn't necessarily work that_). He tries to comfort her without seeming patronizing (_but she doesn't take it that way_). He wants to fix it all. He wants to apologize and grovel for forgiveness. He will gladly through himself at her feet.

He will do nearly anything.

With a whisper of words and a brush of lips, he gets ready to fall apart but it doesn't happen yet. He can see that she wants to slap him and push him to the ground and stomp all over his broken body. And yet she doesn't do anything.

Somehow that makes it worse.

"I thought I could love you," she says simply, "I wanted to love you." He opens his mouth to say something, _anything_ but she just shakes her head. "Don't, Derek." She backs away from him and this whole horrible, tantalizing thing.

"Casey, please," he tries.

She glares at him but the affect is lost because he can see the tears forming in her eyes. "No, I can't." She leans in some. "You broke me to fit you," she swallows the lump in her throat, "And I can't allow that anymore." Without a second glance, she's gone.

And he's the broken one all over again.

*

_**Fences**_

_If you let me I could  
I'd show you how to build your fences  
Set restrictions, separate from the world  
The constant battle that you hate to fight  
Just blame the limelight_

He follows her outside but pretends it's not what he's _actually_ doing. He watches her as she wraps her sweater tighter around her shoulders. He doesn't believe his eyes when he sees her take out a lighter and cigarettes.

He strolls over to her and takes the cigarette right out of her mouth. "You hypocrite," he accuses.

"Hey!" She protests and attempts to grab back her Zippo lighter and Marlboro cigarettes. She pouted and groaned as he only held them higher. He a foot taller than her anyway so there was no way she was going to get back her vices.

"You know that these are very bad for you, Miss McDonald," he mocks as she finally gives up on reaching. She crosses her arms over her chest.

"I'm well aware," she rolls her eyes, "It helps me relieve stress is all. Is that a crime?"

"Kind of," he says and she scowls. "You give me such a hard time for smoking and now look at you." He takes the cigarette she was about to light up and does so for himself. He hadn't had a smoke in what seemed like a long time. "You think these make you look sexy or badass, they only make _you_ look out of place."

Casey rolls her eyes again, "It just relaxes me. When there's million things going wrong, when the peer pressure almost suffocates me and stuff. I can't take it. I get freaked out."

Derek's mouth forms an 'o' and the smoke from his cigarette makes the same shape. Casey snorts and looks around the street.

"Of course, just blame everything else," he says with a shrug.

She takes a few steps toward him and leans just enough so that she breathes in some of the smoke. "Well, blaming you wouldn't make any sense," she tells him. She takes the cigarette from his mouth, inhales then drops it to the ground and crushes it with her foot.

She kisses the corner of his mouth and whispers, "See you inside." She walks back inside, feeling vindicated. Derek doesn't waste a minute before following her.

*

_**Born for This**_

_Right now you're the only reason  
(I'm not letting go, oh…)  
And I'm out if everyone's worth pleasing  
(Wa-ah) You'll trigger a landslide  
(Victory) To kill off their finite state of mind_

She feels ridiculous dressed up (_all pretty and admirable and sexy_) with no where to go. She blames him because it's easy but really it's half her fault too. She hates it when she's wrong (_being right means being better off_).

He shows up an hour late (_dripping wet and kind of dirty but no doubt still good looking_). She's watching TV bare foot with them up on the coffee table and pretending not to notice him. He slips off his jacket and runs a hand through his damp hair, making the water droplets stray on her but she doesn't move (_won't allow it_).

He sits next to her and watches her carefully but she won't glance his way. After ten minutes of him watching her and her ignoring him, he kisses her and (_no matter what, no matter why_) she gives into him.

He's all wet and slippery and _fucking freezing_ but this is just what would've happened at the end of the night anyway so really makes no difference. She shivers underneath him (_because of him_) but neither pay attention.

Afterward, they argue. They pick at old wounds, they point out each other's fault, they throw every wrongdoing back in their faces just because. She wants to cry, wants to curl into a ball and never speak to him but knows that will never happen.

She opens her mouth to yell some more but he covers it with his own. She bites down hard and blood comes rushing out. He doesn't care. It was her turn to make a mark.

The scar on her hipbone, the one that looks like claw marks, the one that won't _just go away_, is all his doing.

They were born for this.


End file.
